


talking body

by dormant_bender



Series: pass out at three, wake up at ten. [4]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bonding, Coffee, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Language, Non-Explicit Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Study Date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:24:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10092176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormant_bender/pseuds/dormant_bender
Summary: Rafael is going a little stir-crazy about whether or not his relationship with Marc is official or not, but little does he know he has nothing to worry about. Not when the blond is equally head over heels and the duo bond over an intimate study session.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There's a teeny-tiny bit of smut in this and if you're not into that, you're welcome to skip it xx 
> 
> Enjoy ;)

  
  


Things were a little different for the youth as he continues going about the normal yet audacious lifestyle of being a college student. Like for instance, it had been nearly a week since the party fiasco—more like party success, really, hah—but nothing seemed to have changed between the blond and Rafael.  


  


If anything it made them closer in a variety of more intimate, knowing ways but other than that, nothing had been made official. Yeah, that's the word he was looking for. There he was lounging about with Neymar's legs stretched neatly out on his lap; the two were currently involved in one of their "bonding" sessions where they vowed to skip class the next morning in favor of staying up and watching random movies on Netflix.  


  


The raven rests his head back against the couch, nuzzling more comfortably into the plush material as he continues his thought process. Both of his arms are currently propped up by Neymar's remarkably hairless legs, to which he tends to giggle at, while the rest of his form is tucked beneath him. He unconsciously begins to run his fingers up and down the length of his legs, too deep in thought to notice it himself.  


  


Was Marc not ready to actually "date" him. Or was it more or less a misconstrued issue that the two were already a thing? He needed answers, dammit, but he was far too stubborn to bring it up to the studiously studying blond somewhere back at his own dorm.  


  


When he glances up, he finds a pair of hazel eyes peering at him through the darkness. "I'm not your precious ' _Marquinho_ ,' man." murmurs the Brazilian with an amused snicker as swats at the hands. "I'm serious, man, it actually kinda tickles."  


  


Almost immediately his hands are raising and are awkwardly hovering in the air, offering an apologetic half-smile to the elder. "My bad, I was just thinking."  


  


"How can you think in a moment like this?" exclaims the Brazilian as he scrambled into a sitting position, hands moving vigorously to find the remote, pausing the movie. "Leonardo is about to fucking die and you're stroking me like I'm some hairless fucking cat or something."  


  


"Meu deus." Rafael rolls his eyes and makes a grab for the remote, which is pulled away from him by a pouting Neymar. "Yeah, well. Rose is a total bitch, she could have moved over. Just press the fucking play button, merdinha."  


  


Neymar wags a forefinger in his face, however, dismissing the movie altogether as he halfheartedly tosses the remote towards the tiny table in front of them. "Nah. We're already having a sleep-over so we might as well talk about your guy-issues. Sex issues, maybe? Is he not hitting it right?"  


  


"It's not even— _What_?" incredulously squeaks the raven as glares at the elder, leaning across the couch to smack him aside the head. "What are you trying to say? That I can't top?"  


  


Sniffing, Neymar flicks his thumb across his nose, glancing about everywhere but Rafael's face. "You literally scream 'bottom bitch,' and I'm sure anyone could see that from a mile away."  


  


"I resent that." murmurs the raven as he shifts upon the cushion in an attempt to vacate the area but to no avail. A tawny hand has already captured him about the wrist, tugging him back down, setting him with a pointed look. "That doesn't even matter, that's not what we're talking about anyway."  


  


"Whatever." groans the Brazilian as he splays his legs out across the younger's lap once more. "Go on, let me Dr. Phil you. Sup with you and blondie?"  


  


"I'm not talking to you about this," Rafael starts then pauses, glancing down at his hands folded within his lap for a moment. Seconds tick by while he twitches beneath the scrutinizing gaze of the elder until, finally, he gives in with an exasperated sigh. "Okay, so. Long story short, we kissed at that party and I'm not sure if we're 'dating' or just casually 'going out' or something."  


  


"Easy-peasy." Neymar rubs his hands together enthusiastically and then tucks his arms beneath his head for support. "Did you ask him out?" Rafael shakes his head. "Okay... Did he ask you out?" Once more the raven shakes his head. "Then it's settled. You're not together."  


  


Rafael is silent momentarily, brows furrowing tightly together. It's not like the duo hadn't done couple-like things before. Like when the blond insists to transport him to each and every class he had despite his crippling fear of being late and getting locked out of the lecture hall. Or when he would come over unexpected with a delivery of take-out or something he had cooked himself and offered in tupperware.  


  


But that didn't necessarily mean anything, he frequented those actions in high school when it came to filling Neymar's insatiable appetite. Kid used to smoke weed near the football field nearly every morning before school until he had eventually gotten caught and had been suspended for several days—he had then, of course, decided to venture to Rafael's house and proceeded to smoke in his backyard as if the raven wouldn't get caught and scolded himself by his own parents.  


  


Still weary and within a distant reverie, Rafael nibbles decisively at his bottom lip, flicking his gaze back to Neymar who is looking at him with a quizzical expression. Why couldn't things be simple like they were in high school where if you kissed at a party, you were generally exclusive for about a week until discovering you have no chemistry with that person. An unspoken kind of relationship.  


  


Of course he could just ask like an ordinary person would but that would require courage that he didn't have in stock at the moment. All of that was wasted when he had admitted that he enjoyed kissing Marc in so little words; more like actions, really, he had let the blond kiss him again and again until his lips were permanently crimson and his jaw had begun to ache.  


  


"You're freaking me the fuck out," announces Neymar, who viciously tugs him from his reverie.  


  


Rafael shrugged halfheartedly and bent at an awkward angle to retrieve the forgotten remote, pressing the 'play' button until the shrieks of those scattered about in the frigid waters while the Titanic steadily sinks beneath them is shown on the screen. This was a topic to be discussed at a further date, at least until he gained enough balls to actually ask on his own.  


  


-  


  


Granted a few days had passed since the question of the month had been presented. Still, neither the blond nor the raven spoke about the specifics of their relationship. Slight things had changed here and there, however, where sometimes the blond would get a little peeved whenever he would see Rafael jumping onto Jonathan—Jona, as the Brazilian frequently referred to him as. It had lead to a rather interesting conversation that had left the raven smirking smugly to himself.  


  


Jonathan was currently strolling along the cement pathway on the campus grounds while Rafael is plastered on his back, arms wrapped securely around his neck, legs wound around either side of his waist. The two are snickering and murmuring something in low whispers to each other when the blond crosses paths with them, his brows furrowing, perplexed, at the sight he beholds.  


  


"Rafa?" hesitantly breathes to the Brazilian as Jonathan continues to walk despite seeing the blond.  


  


Rafael acknowledges, however, and squirms against the elder boy until he's on his own two feet. He grins broadly at the German, quirking an inquisitive brow. "Marquinho," purrs the Brazilian while Jonathan awkwardly wavers from foot to foot, staring down at the cement.  


  


"I—Never mind." Marc begins then sighs, shoulders hunching forward, as he begins to walk in the opposite direction.  


  


Bewildered by the response that he received, Rafael whispers his good-byes to Jonathan—who is more confused than ever, mind you—before jogging to keep up with the fast moving pace of the German. Easily he catches him by the bicep, tugging on him lightly, until finally he halts and is wetting his bottom lip. When Marc glances up, there's an intense gleam of something something he can't quite place, honestly—but it's the kind of look that has him standing rigid.  


  


And while he knew it bothered the blond to see him riding Jonathan like his personal mule, hah, he didn't think it would have this effect on the German. "Are you mad?" timidly inquires the Brazilian, frowning, knowing he had done wrong.  


  


Marc releases his firm grip on the straps of book-bag, knuckles having turned white, and instead rakes a pale hand throughout his blond locks. Once more he's wetting his lips, as if preparing to say something, but instead says nothing once more. He purses his lips, clearly in thought, and still refuses to meet the younger's gaze. But Rafael gives him space, lets him figure out whatever it is he's thinking about.  


  


Until finally, after what seemed like minutes of anticipation, the blond speaks. "I thought we were together."  


  


So that was what the issue was? The Brazilian coughs aloud, fist banging on his chest, as he processes the words being spoken. Marc is looking at him now, eyes narrowed in concern, hands reaching out as if to comfort him but then retract and instead slide deep within the pocket of his denim jeans. Ivory teeth are capturing his thin lower lip, gnawing at it, then sucking it into his mouth to soothe the torn skin.  


  


"I didn't—I thought—.." Taking a moment to regain composure, Rafael straightens up, once more shooting the towering boy an apologetic glance. Marc looks put-off by his words but the Brazilian is intent to rectify his bewildered expression. "I was thinking about that, too. And I just—I wasn't sure but I wanted to be and I was going to ask but I didn't want to look like a fucking—freaking, sorry—idiot if you weren't into the idea of being a 'thing.' You know?"  


  


It's then the German's expression softens considerably and he releases his bottom lip. Cheeks are flaring with a pale pink flush as he eyes the Brazilian for a contemplative moment before taking a measured step forward, hands hesitating before sliding to encircle his waist, tugging him impossibly close against his form.  


  


"I didn't know actually." informs the blond with a playful expression upon his countenance as he stares down at Rafael; his eyes flicker from warm brown eyes, to the slope of his nose, and finally down to those slightly parted plump lips that are releasing soft puffs of air against his skin.  


  


Unconsciously the Brazilian soothes his own chapped lips, noticing each and every flicker of those impossibly blue irises. And hell, he finds himself doing the same, except well—For some reason his eyes couldn't seem to abandon the sight of such blue pools and instead stares at them as if it's the last time he would ever lay eyes on them.  


  


"So what are we then?" breathes the Brazilian after a moment, uncertain of whether or not his vocal cords would cooperate, not when he's feeling breathless for some peculiar reason.  


  


Marc laughs, breath wafting into the younger's face, smelling faintly of the cinnamon rolls he had consumed earlier that day. "Depends."  


  


Impatient and anticipating the feel of tender lips against his own, the raven huffs, glaring into Marc's eyes that finally meet and lock with his own. "On what?" whines the younger, lips pursing firmly.  


  


"If you want me or not," finishes the blond with an anxious smile as he takes another step forward until he presses completely into the contours of the younger's body, feeling every inch of him.  


  


"You're fucking with me, aren't you?" grumbles the Brazilian with an agitated roll of his eyes as he slides a hand up to caress the back of the blond's head, leaning forward until their lips are ghosting.  


  


Once more the blond laughs, eyes alight with mirth, as he nods. "I am, yeah." He pauses just as Rafael allows his eyes to flutter to a content close, knowing the connect of their lips was close. "And watch your language," scolds the elder before those lips are on him.  


  


Rafael snorts into the kiss, echoed by Marc's own laughter bubbling within his throat. It's a gentle movement of lips, melding together softly, all affection and not lacking passion. Just a gentle sliding of mouths as the younger parts his lips to allow the elder access to his mouth.  


  


"Ahem." Almost instantaneously the duo are flushing and are creating distance between them at the sight of the dean standing there. Her hands are firmly placed on both hips as she glares from one to the other, silently scolding them both. "Must I remind you of the rules?" She looks directly at Rafael, who waves his hands before him in defense, while Marc is suddenly finding the sky very interesting. "I expected this from you," she murmurs at Rafael, who attempts not to snicker, then slides her gaze to Marc. "But definitely not from you. Get to class." When neither of them move, she purses her lips. " _Now_."  


  


Marc is the first to clear his throat and motion towards the building he had previously been making his way to and slides his gaze to Rafael. He motions this way and that and the Brazilian just snickers as he points a forefinger in the direction of the cafeteria. Once more Marc is smiling as he walks backwards toward the building, waving dreamily at the younger boy, who rolls his eyes and begins his trek away.  


  


Not once does the blond turn around, at least not until he collides into a Portuguese man, who looks at him with his chin up in the air and rights him, shoving him roughly in the appropriate direction.  


  


-  


  


One would think that attending college in a university with your now official boyfriend would mean seeing each other more often than not but in actuality, it was the exact opposite. Despite managing to get a quaint number of classes changed to better accommodate the duo, who reveled in the few and far between time spent together, it still wasn't quite enough. In fact, it would probably never be enough, not when the two desperately yearned for an infinite amount of time.  


  


It was early in the afternoon, just a little past three, when Rafael strolls out of the classroom muffling an outstretched yawn. Upon passing the threshold of the door and to his left, his face immediately animates and he grins broadly at the sight of the blond leaning casually against the side wall. There's a tiny smile on Marc's face, cheeks faintly flushed, as he nods his head in the direction of the exit located down the lengthy corridor.  


  


As per usual the blond, whether by habit or instinct, absentmindedly reaches for Rafael's fingers to twine them within his own and proceeds to squeeze. It garners the Brazilian's attention, who makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, brow quirking in response. But Marc doesn't say anything, no, just grins a little wider and decreases the distance between them to press an unexpected kiss to Rafael's pliant mouth.  


  


It's a gesture that the two frequented since that moment at the front of the campus when it had been officially decided that they were, in deed, an item and it would be true from then on out. Marc, who was the more tentative and quiet out of the two, was surprisingly bold when it came to public displays of affection which had first stunned Rafael but now?  


  


_Ha_.  


  


A little kissing between classes and between gaps in the bookcases in the library were some of his favorite times of the day. Though he had insisted that Marc scurry off after their little rendezvous so he wouldn't be late to any classes—it had always been in vain, however, because the more the two got to know each other, the less the German seemed to mind getting reprimanded for his tardiness. Not that the college professors were too concerned over it, though the man who had been assigned to have responsibility over the German students had calmly scolded him and warned him against such acts.  


  


"Your place or mine?" questions Rafael after a giddy moment, playfully knocking shoulders with the elder boy.  


  


Marc hums, considering the idea of returning to his flat, but decides against it. "B said something about needing the room to himself for the weekend, so the frat house seems to be the best option."  


  


Sighing in exasperation, Rafael remains silent, just nodding his acknowledgement. Privacy was difficult to achieve in the fraternity mainly because of how comfortable everyone was with each other. There was a 'no locked doors' policy that was encouraged due to the fact. Anyone could barge in at any minute leaving the inhabitants of the room vulnerable and exposed but when you're in a house full of boys equipped with junk that everyone has seen before, it hadn't been that big of a deal.  


  


But the issue was mainly when trying to get laid, that was the main annoyance. Not that Rafael was pushing anything with Marc this early in the relationship and neither had actually brought the subject up. More or less the relationship consisted of going with the flow, which hadn't bothered Rafael, at least not until he would occasionally spend late nights with the blond assisting him in studying for an anatomy test coming up.  


  


Rafael continues to absently ponder things revolving that topic as the two quietly make their way toward the fraternity house that happens to be decorated with toilet paper—not an uncommon sight, honestly, but definitely a surprise since it hadn't been there earlier that morning. Sorority girls, muses the raven, as he mentally devises a plan to get back at the sneaky girls responsible.  


  


Eventually the duo make it unscathed into the safety—using the term loosely—of Rafael's bedroom. He immediately collapses onto the bed but not before dropping his bag near the foot of the bed. Fingers make rapid work of unfastening the buttons of his denim shirt to toss halfheartedly to the floor while Marc eagerly retrieves his anatomy textbook and relieves himself of his hoodie where a simple white tee lays beneath.  


  


"I keep wondering why it's so hard to remember the parts of the body when I study with you," chuckles the blond as he offers the book to Rafael, who eyes it but takes it nonetheless, flipping the pages to the designated chapter. "But then I realize it's because you keep distracting me."  


  


"Oh yeah?" snorts the Brazilian as he shifts upon the bed with use of his elbows until he's propped up against the headboard with a pillow tucked beneath his lower back, legs outstretched toward Marc. "I just ask where the body parts are and you just tell me, what's distracting about that?"  


  


Marc offers a reserved smile as he tucks a leg beneath him, fingers teasingly gliding along the smooth skin of the latter's ankle. "I've never been aroused by someone teaching me something before, not with your voice and how you say things."  


  


Shivering at the feel of cool fingers drawing patterns on his ankle, the Brazilian just shifts on his spot on the bed, awkwardly clearing his throat. "Yeah, well. No one says 'aroused' when they're talking about getting hard, Marquinho. Where are we? The Nineteenth Century?"  


  


Marc blushes at that and awkwardly retrieves his hand, "I didn't know the right word in Spanish."  


  


"Oh, oh fuck. My bad, man, I forgot you have the vocabulary of a five year old." lightheartedly teases the Brazilian, hissing at the feel of a barely there pinch near his ankle.  


  


"I'm sure five year olds don't have the kind of problems that I have when you talk," scolds the German with a firm purse of his lips, earning a snicker of amusement from Rafael, who's head thuds back against the headboard as he laughs. "C'mon, give me the first body part."  


  


Just that sentence alone had given the Brazilian a sinister idea. Unconsciously the corners of his lips quirk upward into a devious smirk as he finds himself going completely lax against the blankets while his cock stirs within his shorts at just the thought. Of course he could give Marc the word and have him explain, in simpler terms, where they were located or he could spice the study session up in a more hands on kind of way.  


  


Marc looks apprehensive as he studies the younger's face and Rafael takes notice. "We could play a game, make it more fun. What do you think?"  


  


"Why are you looking at me like that?" curiously inquires the blond with a cant of his head, nibbling at his lower lip. He's intrigued, of course, and shifts once more upon the blankets to face the younger directly. "What kind of game?"  


  


"I tell you the word for the body part and you point to where they're located on on me." Rafael wiggles his brows playfully and watches as Marc's usually sky blue gaze darkens visibly, making the raven gulp deeply, licking at his lips.  


  


"So I just touch you where I think the part is located?" hesitantly asks the blond as if needing a firm confirmation, to which Rafael just nods, devious smirk still in place. "Yeah, yeah okay. That—yeah."  


  


The triumphant grin on the raven's face is bright enough to light the world for at least a day. So he sits straight back against the headboard and gazes imploringly at the photo of the human body as well as the parts and their scientific name labeled beside them. The raven peers at Marc over the top of the book, finds he has shifted closer with eyes wide in anticipation, patiently—or impatiently?—awaiting the first question.  


  


Deciding on the logical approach, the raven begins the assessment. "Meta—meta, what? Me-tata-rsal bone? Fuck, Marc, I always hate this part."  


  


Snickering to himself, the blond just busies himself with tugging off Rafael's sock, tossing them to the side. Both of his hands, cool to the touch, ghost along the bone located near the center of his feet. Fingers circle the area where the bone is located, "Metatarsal bone," assists the elder with a playful wink.  


  


"That was too easy," murmurs the raven, unimpressed, though he releases a sigh at the feel of the latter's thumb massaging the point on top of either foot; perhaps a pressure point? "Okay, uh—Next.." he peers forward at the page then points at the next word: "What about the fibula?"  


  


"Good job with that one," commends the elder, to which Rafael rolls his eyes at, smile lingering on his lips. "It's right here.."  


  


As unnecessary as it is to do so, much to the raven's pleasure, the blond's fingers trail up the length of his leg and near his calf muscle. It sends shivers throughout the expanse of every inch of his body, the blond noticing, smiling softly. The blond's forefinger trails a straight line where the bone is located and peers up at the younger through his lashes, quirking his brows as if needing to hear the affirmative he was correct.  


  


"That's, yeah, that's fucking great. How about, uh, the tibia?" And on cue the blond trails a little way's higher upon his leg, just a little below the knee, to where the bone is located. "Patella..?"  


  


This time it takes a considerably shorter amount of time to reach where the knee was located. Both of Marc's hands rest upon the two caps, squeezing them within his cool hands, eyeing Rafael with dark hues. Figures that the blond would recall each and every location when the two were involved in this kind of game, muses the raven, as he wets his rapidly drying lips and reluctantly tears his gaze away from the German to stare at the page once more.  


  


As the game continues, however, the raven is becoming more and more eager to get it over with. This tension could be severed by the slightest of tools, sliced into like a warm knife through butter, melting away once the two connected. Rafael licks his lips once more, attempting to speed the process up. This time he asks about the femur and it's an honest feat not to meet Marc's intense and heated gaze as his hands begin to move.  


  


Cool hands, splayed out across smooth tawny skin, move upward until he reaches Rafael's thigh. As he does so, his hands move the material of his shorts higher and higher, revealing more tanned skin. Marc's hands are trembling as they move, large hands squeezing either thigh, gulping deeply. The only audible thing in that moment is their breathing, rapid and hurried, the two making eye contact.  


  


"And the..."  


  


"... _Here_...?"  


  


Rafael gulps deeply as the blond, hesitant in his movements, continues their journey until only one hand rests just above the raven's half-hard cock. The Brazilian utters a moan through clenched teeth, eyes fluttering to a content close, nodding vigorously in response as he bucks his hips toward the hand that tentatively squeezes him through the bunching, tightening material.  


  


"Yeah, that's it—Right there.." whispers the raven into the quiet, head thudding back against the headboard. "And, uh, it's—it's function?"  


  


"You tell me?" Marc's voice is low, husky, as he responds with guiding a hand beneath the band of his shorts and boxers, offering a gentle back and forth movement of his hand.  


  


Rafael is left a whimpering mess as tosses the book halfheartedly onto the floor, ignoring how it thuds boisterously loud. Instead his hands occupy themselves with gripping tightly into the sheets for purchase; it had been far too long since he had been touched so intimately, excluding himself of course, and it felt so good to have this kind of relief after such a drought.  


  


Of course the raven can feel rather than see dark eyes focused on the minute flickers of pleasure that cross his countenance and it makes the experience that more intense. Marc stares, eyes half-lidded, at the way the younger's lips part ever-so-slightly then open even more once he releases an outstretched moan. Notes the way his eyelids clench tightly then release and repeat whenever he squeezes just right.  


  


But still, Marc continues.  


  


Fingers move with finesse and fluidity as they stroke along the sensitive skin of Rafael's cock. His thumb brushes gingerly along the head, smearing the minuscule beads of pre-cum to glisten the flesh. Part of him is tempted—oh, so tempted—to bow his head and taste the salty sweetness that the younger has to offer but just barely manages to restrain himself.  


  


All too soon the raven's chest is beginning to rapidly rise and fall, eyes clenching and releasing more often, as he chases the high he was so desperate to attain. He keeps releasing breathy whispers of Marc's name, spurring him further in his movements, his hand increasing it's previously steady pace to one of renewed vigor.  


  


Rafael's stomach clenches knowingly and he whines low in his throat, eyes fluttering open and locking on the elder's, lids narrowed almost completely. "Marc.. _Marc_.." he keeps sighing, gulping deeply, before screwing his eyes shut once more and releasing into the blond's awaiting palm.  


  


Marc continues to work his hand, however, determined to milk him of every drop he has to offer. All the while he breathes soothing words to the raven, shushing the tiny cries that continue to emit from within his throat. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, the raven's eyes flutter open to reveal a thoroughly sated Rafael with a lopsided, dreamy smile upon his mouth.  


  


"You never actually gave me the answer to the last one," pants the raven as he kicks his shorts all the way off, offering them to the blond, who eyes them with amusement.  


  


The blond accepts the regard nonetheless and effectively cleans his hands of the clouded substance then tosses the shorts to the floor. "The answer to that question is the thing you think too much with."  


  


"Here I was thinking you wanted me because of my brain," teases the raven as he adjusts to the stickiness beginning to cool within his boxers, nose crinkling in disdain.  


  


Marc purses his lips firmly, holding the younger's gaze, before offering a chuckle. "That, too." quips the blond after a moment, reaching halfheartedly for the textbook to discard. "I think you should do your laundry," he adds a moment later, own nose crinkling.  


  


Rafael rolls his eyes promptly though the smile on his face betrays his outward appearance of annoyance. Instead he just beckons the blond closer with a finger, tugging on the front of his shirt, down and down until their lips press together tenderly. It's a simple kiss, lips not fighting for dominance, just reveling in the feel of the other's mouth and the taste of each other.  


  


-  


  


Needless to say, the duo continued the more active version of studying; the act was much more preferred over the studious question presenting and common name of the body part. It continued like that for the next week or so until the test had finally arrived which meant no more intense studying of the human body, much to their shared dismay.  


  


It was a slow and meaningless day where it was cloudy outside and less humid than usual. One of those days that felt more gloomy and lackluster than the typical upbeat feel and warmth the sun provided. It was relatively late in the evening, perhaps an hour or two before eight, and the duo had wandered off campus toward one of the local coffee shops nearby.  


  


A shot of espresso would definitely help revive Rafael's spirits, so he agrees to accompany the blond, much to Neymar's agitation. Apparently the Brazilian was developing a bit of a jealous streak, having complained about not seeing enough of his "best friend lately" and how he had seemingly been replaced by the "walking encyclopedia," to which the raven had commended him on such a big word.  


  


There the two are currently poised within a booth, one on one side while the other was seated opposite. Rafael has his hands out before him, tapping rhythmically upon the surface of the table, while Marc is fiddling with his glasses and repeatedly sliding them up on the bridge of his nose. Something about having dropped one of his contacts on the ground and losing them.  


  


"How do you lose a contact, Marquinho?" snorts the Brazilian with an amused twitch of his lips, kicking up a leg beneath the table, pressing it against the elder's.  


  


"Probably by dropping it," remarks the blond with a chuckle, shaking his head. "I tried looking for it but that one kid, the one you said is 'king douche-lord,' he stepped on it. I doubt it was on purpose though."  


  


Once more the Brazilian snorts as he wraps his hands around the warmth of the mug in front of him, sighing contently at the radiating heat. "If you think he did it on accident, then you're not as smart as you look in those glasses."  


  


Marc fiddles with them once more by removing them, peering through the lens for any smears, then returning them to his face. "I like to think he didn't do it on purpose," better phrases the blond, shoulders hunching forward. He leans forward, taking a measured sip of his frappuccino, humming his appraisal.  


  


Rafael raises his mug and brings the rim to his lips, blowing cool air into it, before taking a sip. "That's wishful thinking."  


  


"It's just—.." Marc pauses, takes another sip, then remains quiet a moment. His cheeks are turning a crimson color and he doesn't dare to meet Rafael's eyes, which initially alarms him, the raven staring at him quizzically. "I was bullied in middle school for wearing my glasses and it's not my fault I have to wear them _or_ my contacts.."  


  


Frowning at the admittance, the raven just nods slowly, uncertain of what to do. So he follows his instincts and reaches across the table to take pale hands into his own, squeezing them reassuringly. "You're right, it's not your fault and anybody that fucks with you because of that is just being an asshole for no reason."  


  


Marc just shrugs a shoulder, frown still upon his lips. "I guess so.."  


  


"Look—I'm not going to let anyone bully you, okay? If you want, I'll stand up to that tall little shit and tell him not to fuck with my boyfriend." insists the Brazilian, eyes stern, lips pursed into a firm line. Marc glances at him, face softening, lips quirking slightly upward.  


  


"You cuss a lot when you get emotional," absentmindedly comments the German, who flushes a more vibrant scarlet. "Don't do that, okay? I have it under control, plus I don't want him doing anything to you."  


  


"Think I can't hold my own because I'm, like, a whole foot shorter than you?" playfully questions Rafael, teasing grin spreading across his lips. "Because I'm small like a chihuahua but will bite like a pit-bull."  


  


"I don't want to see you biting anyone," insists Marc with a warm smile. He brushes the pads of his thumb along the smooth skin upon the latter's hands, silently thanking him for trying to stand up for him. "Thank you though, I mean it. I didn't really have anyone to stand up for me back then, at least not until I met Bernd but even then.." the blond trails off, eyebrows rising on their own accord, averting their gaze to stare into his frappuccino.  


  


"People are assholes but hey, guess what?" Marc glances up once more, making an inquisitive noise. "You look hella good in those glasses and even without them. Your eyes, they're—they're really, _really_ blue." dumbly states the raven, earning a rewarding snort from the blond.  


  


"Isn't that what you said when we first met?" ponders the blond aloud with a curious smile.  


  


Rafael is quiet as he recalls the subtext of their first conversation then his features light up in realization. "I think I did, yeah, but fuck. How could I not? They're just so goddamn beautiful. I think I fell in love with your eyes first."  


  


Marc is the first to assess just what had been said. He sits there, flushed and unable to prevent a bashful grin from plastering across his mouth. The words just continue to replay over and over within his mind because the raven had honestly just admitted to possessing more serious feelings for him versus the puppy love kind of emotion. And he had said it so easily with such sincerity that he couldn't question whether he was being genuine or not because it was blatantly obvious that he was telling the truth.  


  


The blond tightens the hold on the latter's hands, fingers intertwining, thumbs brushing gingerly along his skin once more. It takes a lot longer for Rafael to realize the implications of his words, however, and Marc knows exactly when he realizes them by the way his mouth alternates between opening and clamping shut.  


  


"You heard that, didn't you?" nervously questions the raven with a timid, choked laugh. Marc nods in response and wears a blindingly bright smile. "Oh, wow, okay. So, uh—Am I alone in this or—?"  


  


"No, no." Marc quickly recovers from his lovesick haze and awkwardly clears his throat. "No, it's not that. I like you, too, a lot. Trust me, we're on the same page."  


  


Rafael releases a breath he hadn't previously known to be holding at the statement. He feels a variety of feelings—relief, ecstatic, blissfully content. But now he doesn't know what to say, not being one with good feelings, and searches his mind desperately for something at least vaguely romantic to say. But after a while he comes up blank and instead just utters a laugh.  


  


"I literally can't think of what to say right now," Rafael snickers and eventually the blond joins in tandem.  


  


"Neither can I," admits the blond, eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's the kind of happy where I just can't think of anything I could possibly say to describe how I'm feeling."  


  


"Same." states the raven with euphoric grin as he leans across the table, head tilting slightly to the side. "Why use words though?"  


  


Marc doesn't say anything in response, however; he just leans forward, following the latter's lead, and connects their lips in a passionate kiss. Of course when it begins heating up, the two are forced to separate, victim of the bewildered gazes of an elderly couple sharing a pastry. Rafael notices first, unable to breathe due to how hard he's laughing, while Marc raises his hands defensively and utters a rapid-fire apology.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know how I did and if you liked it, yeah? I'm thinking about expanding this college verse more xx


End file.
